Into Archadia
by Chatting Airborne
Summary: Upon the quinquennial visit of Merida's cousin, amidst threats from the neighboring Archadian empire, tragedy strikes. Lost and alone, Merida must find justice. Will fear control her, or will new friends light her path? (HTTYD, BRAVE, ROTG, TANGLED BIG FOUR!) Hiccup, Merida, Jack Frost, Rapunzel
1. The Stranger

In the high stony hills of the Viscounty of DunBroch lay the mountains of Ben Vair. It was a land of tall pines, caves, and short grasses, which were decimated by the livestock that fed against them. This mountain range tumbled into a grey loch, surrounded on its left shoulder by a half valley, which was more like a low lying range of hills upon which sat Castle DunBroch. Surrounding the half valley on its climb to the Ben Vair was a range of pines huddled close and dark where the hunting parties went on. The valley was for archery. And on this strange day it was unnaturally hot. The wind came by in lazy gusts, humid thanks to the lake. But the sweat glistened on the brows of the nobles and their servants alike.

While most of the party straddled the lake, one girl with a head full of flames tucked her curls up and pressed her fingers against the damp cloth on her back. Then she commanded her fingers away from the moist skin and sent them padding around the edge of her quiver for an available arrow. Once she set hands on a good one she slipped it out and strung it up in her long bow. With closed left eye she set her right on the target, pursing her lips to the side as she tilted her arrow forward. Then, she let go, and the sharp head went sailing right into the target's center. Merida grinned.

"The Archadian Empire continues to cause trouble in the south," a melodious voice murmured a distance behind, so low it came to Merida's ears in a whisper. It made her grit her teeth. But she strung another arrow anyway. Then a booming laugh erupted, enveloping the whole valley, causing the falcons to jitter. And Merida relaxed and shot. Another perfect hit.

"The Archadian Empire is filled with fiends," responded the great laughing voice of Merida's father. "The southern Margravies shall snuff its advances."

"It is rumored that they have a new weapon," the soft voice returned in a whisper, even quieter than his statement before. At this Merida's ears pricked up and she listened, pretending to string another bow. She did not dare look over her shoulder, though she wished she could. The shuffling of her father's feet made her uneasy. So she shot again, just missing her mark. She scowled. One arrow left. But instead of stringing it in her bow, she wiped her palms and used her sleeve to swab her wet brow. Then she retied her hair as the men continued speaking behind her.

"What weapons could be greater than our marksmen?" boomed Merida's father, and Merida scowled deeper. He expected her to shoot her last arrow. So with reluctance, she strung it, shut her left eye, took her mark, and let go. Another perfection, this time shredding the previous arrow in half, right to the head. Her father chuckled and she heard his feet padding towards her. Then his hand fell against her shoulder and she looked up.

"My daughter may be our finest," chuckled Fergus with pride, staring at Merida with a crinkly-eyed smile. Merida grinned back without stopping herself. But her eyes fell dull as they lay upon her father's companion. Though there was not a bead of sweat on his brow, his eyes moved across the landscape covered in narrowed lids, their warm greys insipid. His skin was grey as well; at times blue when in the sun. They said it was due to silver in his blood, and not to stare because of his rank. But he seemed to belong to the loch more than anything else. Merida greeted him with a curtsy and a mumbled hello.

"Your daughter is fair and mild of tongue," murmured the stranger.

"Only to men who shimmer of honor," replied Merida. In surprise the stranger pursed his lips, while Merida's father slapped his knees and let out a sailing guffaw. In between laughter and breath, the viscount pointed to his daughter and grabbed her shoulder again, beaming. "She's got a tongue on her alright, but I wouldn't ascribe it 'mild'."

The stranger did not find it so funny, and instead stood in silence as his companion's chuckles tapered to nil. When all was quiet except the wind of the loch, the stranger smiled. "Is her cousin not still in the fencing arena?"

With a nod Fergus fumbled to grasp Merida's arm and push her towards the castle, and the sudden display raised the heads of the servants scavenging the valley for an occasional bit of information to intermit their work. But as Merida's gaze fell on each set of sheep like eyes, they turned downward while the hands busied themselves. A brave one, upon being stared down, said, "Milady, have you want of your arrows?" But Merida shook her head and stalked towards the target herself, calling "I will do it," behind her back. Once in front of the red and white circle, she tugged her arrows from the canvas and returned them to her quiver. Then she trudged for the castle, which lay fifty meters ahead. Another servant offered to walk her up, but upon Merida's following scowl, instead chose to walk a yard behind her.

Once she'd reached the gatehouse, checking to see that her brothers were not peering over its roof's edge, she stepped through the entrance to the castle courtyard and asked one of the roaming gardeners about her cousin. None but the head Webster knew anything of her location, and she only offered a general direction with the point of her finger. But upon trudging towards the line of empty halls serving as classrooms, the familiar whine of metal against itself entered her ears. The third hall was the one, its tables and chairs pushed to the room's sides to afford ample dueling space. At its center stood the combatants, the tips of their rapiers glancing off one another. Their thick trousered legs held taught, right leg to the front and left to the back, grounded them, while the muscles of their fighting arms were covered in a thick leather wrap. Their left arms were held behind their backs. They began.

The left opponent's front foot moved first, raised on the toes before landing with the heel turned out. His weight moved from his back to his front foot, and the back foot glided to the front as he lunged forward. In return, the right opponent's blade, before held adjacent to her chest, curled parallel to the line of her body as she beat back the attacking lunge. Circling past her opponent's blade, she straightened her right arm as her blade ran across her opponent's bicep. Once "finit!" was called, the match ended. As Merida clapped in the background her cousin's helmet came off, revealing a twin head of fire, albeit with curls more tame than Merida's, parted severely down the center of her scalp. The same, brilliant teal eyes stared from an indignant face. Then they were gone, turned away. When her opponent pushed his cap from his own head and moved towards, she snapped her fingers and he left, exiting the room with a bow. Then there were only the two girls.

"Is the party returning for supper?" asked Juri in a clipping tone. Merida tried grinning in response. But then she added, "the sun is too high yet," moving closer to her cousin to watch her put her fencing tools away. Juri's dress lay in a bunch beneath her scabbard, as did her petticoat. She looked upon the articles of clothing in disdain before removing her fencing sleeve from her arm, and then her sleeved vest, setting both to the ground as she pulled her chemise and cote over her head. After she was attired in her dress, her trousers were taken off and folded near her scabbard. Juri looked at the linen cloth in longing, before pushing it aside and turning to face Merida. "Shall we move to meet them?" she asked. Merida nodded and both exited the room.

The sun was now lower in the sky, a bright orange against a slow blushing horizon. Merida sucked it all in in one swoop of a breath, before puffing it back out into the air. Juri was silent beside her as they walked.

"Don't the trousers feel strange against your bare legs?" asked Merida finally, unable to contain herself. Beside her Juri's eyes closed and her fists clenched. "Are you planning on informing my father?" she murmured, but Merida shook her head with vigor. "The strangeness of it impresses me," added Merida, sheepish. She thought she noted a hint of a grin play across Juri's lips. But only for an instance, then it was gone.

"Did you hear what they were speaking of?" whispered Juri. Merida shook her head again. Then she saw that the grey man and her father were still in the valley, at the foot of the stone steps leading to the gatehouse of their manor. "They sent me off before I had time to listen."

"You were too loud," responded Juri. "When they think you stupid, they allow you to stay."

Merida turned to Juri in deep surprise and examined her face. The girl stared forward with pursed lips and bent brows, an expression strange to the people of DunBroch save for Merida's mother, Eleanor. Juri's held more bitterness, though.

"I heard what they were saying," Juri murmured in soft reply, gaining back Merida's full attention. They both stared in the direction of the grey man, examining him as he spoke, and the way he touched Fergus's shoulder and bent near to his ear, speaking words crafted solely for the viscount.

"They spoke of the Archadian Empire," murmured Juri further. "They said it holds a new weapon, a human one. Or perhaps something less than human."

"God bless us," whispered Merida in response. "To fight such fiends in reward of such graces."

Amused, Juri's eyes softened. Then, bending close to Merida and looking over the loch she whispered, "they are searching far and wide for soldiers of strong character and ability. They search among us as we speak."

Purpose met in such strange circumstance, Merida took time to settle in to the new information, using her nails for tactile distraction. Juri watched her press around their rims in exasperation, but the sullen girl did not speak out against it. Instead her eyes moved again to the loch, where they seemed tied. Rummaging in her skirts, Juri pulled out her metal pomander, nuzzling it to her nose and sucking in its scent, one of crushed lavender. Merida looked on with indignation. "If my odor offends you, do not stand so close," she barked, and Juri scowled in response, the pomander disappearing again in the left sleeve of her surcote. "It is not you, Merida. It is the world. I hate the smell of it." After imparting this Juri disappeared from Merida's side and trudged back to the gatehouse and into the castle just as her father and the grey man mounted the last seven stone steps. When they reached Merida's side, the grey man disappeared inside the gatehouse while Fergus stayed.

For a while the pair stood in silence. Then with deep breath Fergus announced, "there is a strange school on the coast of the Barony of Destin."

"Is that in Corona?" replied Merida. Her father nodded. "Corona's count is sending his daughter to Destin, as are many noble-borns within the borders of our kingdom." Then, as if surprised himself, he added, "even the Holy Emperor of Gestahl sends his son and daughter."

The tendons that wrapped around the bones of Merida's fingers tingled. She did not look at her father as she spoke.

"Am I to go as well?"

"You and Juri will go together."

"What about Adam?"

"Adam is not to be trusted. You will go with Juri."

Nodding, Merida left her father's side and climbed to the gatehouse, where she stumbled towards the great hall ahead of her family. Her mother was caught in conversation with her sister in law, but when she spotted Merida heading towards her she held out her arms and sighed. "Where is your cousin?" she murmured, gripping Merida's shoulder with a sure hand. Merida shrugged away from her and walked ahead of the party with a high chin. "She went to the great hall ahead of me."

Eleanor said nothing in return, so Merida quickened her pace until darkness lit by glowing orange torches engulfed her. The stage heading the great hall was already set with knives for supper, and the smell from the kitchen overwhelmed. But Merida worried. She pressed the sides of her nails again as she paced the back of the empty hall. At its center lay the fire pit. But at its head, upon the stage where her family sat for meals, there was a great shield representing their emblem. Upon its silver back three bears roamed an infinite plain. Eluding them forever lay the triskelions, sustaining and developing. Then there was the half triquetrum, ending three times, protected by a thick band of black. The long legs of the triskelions softly touched it, but the three bears hounded their backs, forever.


	2. The Four Kings

Dinner had finished long before Merida retired to her bedroom. By now all of her brothers had fallen to a deep sleep in their long bed, while she stayed up and wandered the halls, poking around corners for the strange gray gentleman. His glowing eyes haunted her and reflected in every quivering candle or torch that lined the wall. At times like this the shadows grew and toyed with her most deeply. But it was not until she reached the door to her parent's bedroom, the door that had been foolishly left ajar, that her fingertips pricked cold. Inside the two adults were having an urgent conversation. Both spoke in hissing voices, Fergus' louder but Eleanor's more controlled. They were arguing. Merida smiled as she slid her back down the wall until she sat against the floor. Occasionally she peeked in at the room's proceeds, finding with furrowed brows that her father had turned away from her mother, who was seated against the windowsill. The woman smoothed the wrinkles in her green dress and sighed as she spoke.

"I do not want her going," she whispered. "I am frightened to have her away."

"A desire to see the world was bred in her!" replied Fergus. "Besides, he said that it would be safer there than-"

"And why do we trust him so?" Eleanor hissed, breaking away from the windowsill and advancing on Fergus in anger. "We spoke but once with him!"

"He is honest," Fergus responded, his nostrils flaring as his eyes burned with conviction. "He has his own mind."

"I think he is taking advantage of you!" returned Eleanor. Then she threw her hands up, indicating that she wanted no more discussion. Of course it was in this moment that Merida's dress caught in the door hinge and caused the great oaken portal to creak, which incited a hearty jump from her parents. Both shut their mouths, but Fergus lumbered forward and thrust his face into the hall. When his eyes drew to Merida's head of fire, their lids crinkled with a crooked smile as he set his hand atop her head and mussed her hair. Merida shoved her father's arm in return, a little sheepish at being caught. Her mother stayed near the window.

"Why were you spying on us?" asked Fergus in an amused way, which hid his slight discomfort. Merida shrugged. "I just wanted to make sure you were saying good things about me!" To this Fergus chortled and patted Merida against the head once more, sending her off with a light push against her shoulder blades. When he was sure she was gone he turned back to Eleanor and shut the door behind. At the sound of wood on metal Merida scuttled back, fell to her knees, and pressed her ear to the wood again, closing her eyes as she concentrated. Words began forming themselves as she understood them, until they became sentences and separated according to who spoke them.

"I do not think she heard us," murmured Fergus. Merida stifled a laugh.

"She heard us," returned Eleanor flatly. Then, after a long pause she added, "better her than him."

There was a slight silence following this, before footsteps echoed towards the door and hands undid its great latch. But by that time Merida had long gone, scurrying down the hall and around its corner as her mother's long shadow lingered against the stonewalls. Dodging Maudie the maid, Merida maneuvered inside her bedroom without getting caught again, and charged forward to drop on her bed as Juri looked from her history book with scolding eyes. But soon she was gone again, deep within the world of her legends' pages.

The four kings story she read hungrily. But once this had satisfied her she closed the book and pondered the fire that smoldered in a pit at the front of the room. The curls in her hair relaxed into spiraling waves, while the part at her forehead's center fell less severe and her pomander clung to the side of her chair like a silver bell, ever clinking.

"Your mother is quite the matriarch," murmured Juri suddenly, causing Merida to glance away as her cousin caught her eye.

"My mother does nothing," Juri muttered. Then there was silence as both girls stared into the flames. Her fencing materials peeked out from the open wardrobe at the back of the room and she let her eyes wander over them. They had a worried look to them. "Odd things have been occurring," the girl whispered. "The wind sounds strange."

"This is a different kind of wind," replied Merida.

"Very different, muttered Juri. Then she heaved herself from her seat and climbed into bed, settling inside its covers and closing her eyes. Before long Merida joined her. But instead of snuggling into the sheets she sat up against her pillow and poked her cousin's cheek. Juri opened one indignant eye in wait. So Merida smiled as she whispered, "Have you heard anything else?" But Juri closed her eyes and turned away, leaving Merida to stare out the window of their room in silence, as the fire in the pit burned to nothing.


	3. The Will of the Wisps

Two of the three DunBroch tribes arrived to see Merida's party off. Per usual their mode of transportation was boat, and they raced each other to the pier of DunBroch castle amidst shouts and whoops from land and sea. The first ruffle in the greeting was the absence of the third ship, that of the MacGuffin clan. Twenty minutes before Merida had gushed to Juri about the temperaments and sons of the clan leaders, even imitating them as she spoke on their behalf. Juri found it amusing though did not laugh. Her eyebrows ever furrowed in thought, and they had yet to soften. Now Merida's own brows furrowed as she looked across the loch, upon whose waves two ships sailed forward. The empty sea usually inhabited by the third looked sad and tired, its tides flitting forward and pulling back in a lazy fashion. "You said there were three," murmured Juri as they watched.

"There were," responded Merida. Then she hopped to the lowest part of the peer and sauntered to her father's side, shocking him when she tapped his shoulder. "Where is MacGuffin?" she whispered, but her father indicated for her to go away. The eyes of the grey man beside stared at her as she departed, and when Merida caught his cool silver gold gaze, the lids overlaying them narrowed, flashing the eyes a brilliant, sharp yellow. For that second Merida saw the hot flicker at the center of every torch and candle rimmed in each of his irises. But in their middle lay pupils of a deep shadow, their darkness heightened by the glow surrounding them. "Go to your cousin, Merida," the man murmured so that Merida left his side. When she did he returned his attention to her father. Merida stared at his back as she moved towards the castle. Her mother was standing just inside the gatehouse, waiting. The brown eyes held discomfort, and as Merida passed she touched the girl's shoulder.

"Where is MacGuffin?" she asked. "I hope we did not insult them upon our last greeting." Merida shrugged and walked towards the stables, where her horse Angus usually relaxed. "Do not wandering today, Merida," her mother called after her. Merida ignored her. As usual, Angus was standing with his head draped over the side of the stable posts, eyes closed as he napped. But when the familiar sound of Merida's footsteps pricked his long ears, his eyes opened and he neighed loudly, huffing and stamping his hoofs as his mistress reached his side. After nuzzling her face into his nose and kissing the top of his snout Merida took her cleaning supplies and brushed him off, tidying his coat and tail before harnessing him up and hopping over his back. But as she made to escape a loud snap of wood cracked through the stables, garnering her attention. Juri was acting as roadblock. The snap had been from a thin firewood branch.

"I've been sent to guard your path," announced Juri. Merida let out a long sigh and slumped her shoulders in dissatisfaction. Then she slid from Angus' back and stuck her tongue out at Juri, pushing past her towards the castle. Juri followed her with hands folded behind her back. "That was kind of immature, Merida," she murmured, making Merida stick her tongue out again. "Did you ever hear the story about the little boy who stuck out his tongue when angry?"

"No," responded Merida. Juri quickened her pace until she walked by her cousin's side. "Well it was very fun until he came across a renowned officer of the king dressed in humble clothing. The officer challenged the boy, and when his tongue slithered out again it was sliced off by the officer's knife."

At these words Merida blinked in quick succession. Then she scowled and spit. "That's stupid," she added as she trudged to her room. But when she reached the hallway leading up the stairs, the horns signaling the meeting of the clans sounded. Both girls flew to the window and peered out from its limestone sill. They watched as the clans shook hands with Fergus and then the grey man. There was the same amount of recoil from both clans upon viewing the stranger, but no fray. Instead the men lumbered up the stone steps to the gatehouse together, with Eleanor and Fergus side by side. Juri's mother followed at a distance, and behind Maudie shuffled arm in arm with Dingwall's hulking bodyguard. "Aren't we leaving tomorrow?" asked Juri and Merida nodded. "There is always a feast before the family departs. We have only done so twice, so this is going to be an occasion," she added. "And the next day we depart at noon!"

Juri responded with a nod but left Merida's side. In curiosity Merida followed, standing inside the bedroom doorway watching as the girl retrieved her fencing materials. "Are you going to practice again?" asked Merida, and Juri nodded. "My fingers are itching," she murmured distantly. Then she threaded her fingers around the hilt of her sword and unsheathed it from its scabbard, her eyes flashing the same moment the sun from the window glinted against the blade's point. Without realizing, Merida's eyes drew to her own weapon, the long bow above her bed. Her quiver sat beneath it. "How good are you at fencing?" asked Merida.

"Undefeated champion of the county," responded Juri. In reply Merida gasped. "In all of Goldenestadt?" Goldenestadt encompassed two viscounties, DunBroch and Ulstead, and six baronies. Its massive expanse shielded half the kingdom's northeast border from Archadian soldiers and organized bands of thieves with ease, while the Transylvanians stumbled to protect its underside. That Juri was undefeated in all of Goldenstadt was a great feat. And her ensuing smile made Merida's heart pound with excitement. With a gasp the younger girl leapt under the canopy of the bed and clung her arm to its post, pointing with her other to her long bow. "Undefeated in all Dunbroch! None came close!" then, with a smug grin she added, "and I was wearing a stiff corseted dress."

Finally the fiery grin Merida had been waiting for her whole life plastered across Juri's face, and the girl leapt from her slumped position against the wall and sheathed her sword again, setting it to the side as she hopped on the bed with Merida. Though the mattress creaked and wobbled beneath her, she stood in perfect balance. One foot tucked behind the other and left hand folded behind her back, she held her right hand forward as if she were gripping her sword. "I was in breeches," she hissed, and Merida gasped before falling into a fit of giggles.

"How did they allow you to wear breeches?" blubbered the girl as she tucked herself against the wall. Before speaking Juri jumped from the bed and scurried to the door, shutting it and running back with pink cheeks. "They did not allow it," she muttered as she sat on the bedcovers. "I dressed as a man, used a different name and title. I attended the national fencing conference."

This proved too much information, and Merida sat gob smacked as she processed it, waiting for Juri to elaborate. It did not take long.

"If you really want to know," the girl started in discomfort, her breath falling to a whisper, "our cousin Adam has a rather grand title he is oblivious of."

"You went dressed as Adam?" gasped Merida, nearly flying off the bed as her hair shimmered like a firecracker. "When did you do it?"

"When I was sixteen," responded Juri, "two years ago. No one had seen Adam for years, and he was always so little it was easy for me." Then she gasped, directing her eyes back to Merida's and setting her hands over the palms of the other girl. "My brother is very ill right now, fourteen years old and stocky. My parents want to send him on vacation to the south to heal his mind. If you came to visit during that time, we could accompany him. I'm sure there are massive archery competitions there!" Juri's eyes flashed as she spoke and her arms gesticulated wildly, transitioning between tapping her chin and jutting forward with palms closed in indication. Only when Juri realized the Merida's silence did she stop speaking and look with suspicion on her cousin. "Do you not agree?" she inquired, stiff. Merida slipped from the bed and trudged towards the fireplace, looking amidst its ashes. Tonight it would burn bright again. Now it lay in quiet darkness.

"You can't just wait for the moment a sibling is sick and take their place," murmured Merida, pressing the sides of her nails with her thumb and forefinger. "Besides being of questionable morality, it is dishonest!" Then she turned back to Juri and pointed at herself. "When I am champion, I want to be recognized as myself. Not as a male family member."

In anger Juri slid off the bed and planted her feet shoulder's width apart, her hands balled into fists and her normal, indignant expression returned to her eyes. "I would rather be recognized as another than not recognized at all!"

Both girls stood their ground until Merida's shoulders relaxed and shrugged. Juri stared after her for a moment. Then she grabbed her fencing materials and disappeared from the room, leaving Merida on her own. The younger girl sat on her bed for a while and wrung her toes in her shoes. But once her indignation grew too great she stole from the tower and stomped towards the stables again, unhitching Angus from his post and hopping on his back before anyone could tell her otherwise. Then, amidst the cries of Maudie from an upstairs window she flew from the castle and across the bridge towards the forest, where her archery targets were set in various nooks and crannies throughout the trees' branches. For thirty minutes she practiced with them, until a chill loch wind, colder than any she had ever felt before, drifted past Merida's shoulders till her breath billowed in front of her like smoke. She shivered. Then she gripped Angus' reigns and traveled in the wind's direction. Her eyes widened when she came upon the clearing, the one holding the circle of stones where she fought Mor'du. The single paw that escaped one falling stone was long decomposed, now only a cracked skeletal frame. But the nails still glowed black while the wind grew biting.

In the year since Merida's fate was first changed this place had fallen cold and dark with bitter fog, drifted down from the peaks of the Ben Vair. Beyond those mountains lay the Archadian Empire. Perhaps the mist was theirs.

Shivering again, Merida decided to turn and ride home. But just as she tightened her fingers on Angus' reigns a childlike, whispering voice entered her ear and froze her in her tracks. When she turned towards the stone circle again her heart near stopped.

A meter ahead of her hovered a small orb of light, deep blue with spots of grey heat at its center. As it drifted its arms lifted against its sides like translucent fabric. There was only one. There was always just one in the beginning. In silence Merida slipped from Angus' shoulders and crept towards it, feeling the wind drop to freezing as she passed the threshold of the stone circle and disappeared into the deep pines at its back. When Angus stayed rooted behind Merida whistled for him to come forward until he walked again. But the muscles of his back quivered in strange spasms, causing him to beat the area of skin with his tail as his eyes moistened.

With light feet Merida followed the orb as the wind blew her hair. Scowling, she took the red mass against her scalp and tied it back with one of the strings from her dress sleeves. Then she trudged forward. To her surprise the orb drew towards her as well. It went in this way until the two beings rested in front of one another, Merida bending down so that she knelt at the little orb's foot.

"What are you doing out here on your own?" she whispered in curiosity, reaching her hands out and pressing them together beneath the wisp's underside. At the warmth of human contact the light quivered and changed, taking on a man's face. He spoke in sighs, lips pursed in and out as he whispered things Merida did not understand. His features were gaunt. Bending her face closer Merida told him to speak louder. But instead of talking the wisp groaned and shivered as the grey spots acting the man's eyes grew black and hot. Merida hissed in fright as the heat burnt her fingers. But when she glanced towards the wisp again, it was far in the distance. Frightened and unsure it blinked back and forth. As Merida followed it the cold air billowed across her scorched hands and soothed them.

Her breath was heavy now, white grey as it puffed before her pink cheeks. She ran forward. Behind her Angus became disoriented and galloped about in circles, harangued by some strange disposition washing over him. He did not see Merida as she disappeared farther into the woods ahead.

The ground crunched and buckled beneath Merida's feet, as the fog around her grew higher. Soon every footstep squelched when she stepped forward, and bog water seeped around the leather exterior of Merida's shoes and caused her toes to ache with the cold. The sky did not help. Overhead it had begun to rain, an icy one that pricked like needles. It seemed to grow more solid as Merida trudged forward. When her feet sank and the mist surrounding drew to her chest she wacked the air with her arms and peered around for the wisp with eager eyes. It was ten steps in front of her, quivering as it rested itself over the strange glass like surface reflecting its blue mass.

The ice wind blew gusts against Merida's face, sending her away from the wisp and onto the boggy floor of the forest's edge. But with determination she crawled to the orb's side and knelt beside it, holding her dress down to keep it from tipping her backwards. The wisp looked up at her with peering black eyes.

This time it held the face of her father, playing pieces of her memories with him- when he told his stories, when he fought his guests at feasts, when he laughed. Merida smiled as she looked upon it. The wisp took the shape of her brothers, shimmering and morphing as it became threefold. Images of them running amok rotated around the orbs' middles until they charged together and made the wisp whole again. For a fleeting moment Juri's deterring face came into the orb, but it quickly passed away, replaced instead by the warm smile of Merida's mother. Merida's hands tightened around the hem of her dress as she stared at this one. Lightning resounded in the distance and colored the veins of the clouds with white light, while blue wisps filled with cool heat popped up and hovered across the bog's surface, tinkling and laughing like anxious children.

Inside the orb Merida's mother played with her as a young child. Then, encouraged by Merida's memory it switched to when she won her own hand in marriage by archery competition. Her mother's disapproving face switched to one of delight as she and Merida put the mended tapestry against the wall once more. But what had happened in between? Merida's mind would not let her recall it. Hungrily the orb flickered in front of her. Its body was dusk now, and the grey circles inside it had turned to yellow gold. In gentle whispers it coaxed the memory from Merida. Inside its walls played the battle with Mor'Du. While Merida and her father assailed the great spirit bear, a fuzzy shadow hovered at the side of the memory's frame.

"Is that who you want?" whispered Merida. The orb flickered yes. But as Merida bent closer to tell it, a screeching neigh resounded from across the valley.

"Angus!" Merida breathed in fright, stepping away from the bog towards the face of the woods before her. Behind, a gust of ice wind blew violently past the wisp and reduced it to black dust, and as it fell it sunk to the ground like a limp shadow. Quest forgotten, Merida flew forward, grinning as rain fell away and the land grew warm. Sunshine peeped through the trees above, and as Merida whistled for Angus his responding neigh entered her ear. With a sigh of relief she charged towards the stone circle and laughed as she passed its threshold. Then she collapsed at its far side and called for her horse. Angus did not come.

In worry Merida peered in the direction of his voice and pressed the sides of her nails between her thumb and forefinger. "Angus!" she bellowed. The forest was silent. With a huff Merida turned around and bit her lip. Then she pressed her fingers together and shut her eyes.

"_Guardian of the moon's high realm, though my horse is overwhelmed..." _Puffing her lips out, Merida struggled to think of another rhyming verse. _"Draw him safely back to me... and for this gift I will thank thee!" _she muttered with conviction. The dark clouds hovering over the sky disappeared, revealing the moon's tiny crescent. A cold breeze wafted past and cooled Merida's pink cheeks. Then it drifted away.

Angus neighed again, and the familiar clop of his hoofs on the forest floor pricked Merida's ears and made her run towards him. Upon reunion she charged forward and slipped her arms around his long neck, nuzzling her face into his chest. The fingers on her left hand grazed a deep cut. But other than that Angus was merely shaken.

"Let's go home," sighed Merida, hopping back on Angus' back once more. The horse had never traveled so fast. When Merida cleared the forest she looked on her castle in alarm. Surrounding it were deep dark clouds and a setting sun. The battlements were lined by hundreds of hands bearing torches, and men ran back and forth screaming to one another. As Merida's horse climbed the stone steps leading to the gatehouse the palace guard accosted her until they discovered her identity. Then she was allowed inside, greeted in a frenzy by her mother, who swept her in her arms and nuzzled her nose into Merida's curls. "I told you not to wander," she hissed in a shaky voice, pulling Merida towards the great hall by the scruff of her neck. "MacGuffin has sent us a messenger of ill tiding."

The great hall spilled out in front of the two women, its expanse lit in solemn silence. The torches had dimmed to naught, and the men surrounding them sat somber. Without speaking Merida ascended the stairs to the bedrooms. Her mother would not answer her questions. Instead, the woman told Merida to stay in away from the hall and shut her bedroom door behind her. Then the Countess' sweeping footsteps disappeared downstairs.

In confusion Merida paced before the door. But soon her exhaustion overcame her curiosity and she sat against the floor, turning her head to meet the eyes of the figure on her bed. It was Juri. Her irises sparkled with a strange wonder as they stared into the pit flames at the front of the room. The orange glow that reflected against her cheeks bent the shadows under her eyes to gaunt holes. But when Merida shuffled closer she caught the girl's gaze, one of narrowed suspicion. A moment of silent communication passed between the girls. Then Juri wet her lips.

"MacGuffin is dead," she murmured, pupils deep and dark. "We depart tonight."


	4. The Witch

**Please be patient with this one. The first climax is well on its way to fruition.**

**….**

DunBroch's great hall was alive with the movement of chests, food, clothing, and human beings. In the midst of this bedlam sat Fergus and the two present DunBroch clans, embroiled in an argument over what to do next. The Archadian Empire had moved in on MacGuffin, fed his fastest messenger a sort of poison that killed slowly. The man's foot had cleared DunBroch's first stone step to the gatehouse before he fell. In his hand was a note.

"_If you are reading this, MacGuffin's messenger is indeed as fast as he foretold. We look forward to meeting you tonight, at the hour when the moon's light shines brightest. Parting with MacGuffin was such sweet sorrow."_

"Written in blood," muttered Fergus, nostrils flared in rage. The grey stranger sitting beside him shook his head in silent condolence. It was long since atrocities of this magnitude had occurred in DunBroch. Certainly none had transpired within the seventeen years of Merida's life. The slyness of the act was most disturbing. Like a slithering newt the assailant had wailed upon MacGuffin. Yet it had been bold enough to taunt Fergus of its coming.

"They are toying with you," murmured the grey stranger. "Using your anger to control you."

"What of the scribble on the page's bottom?" remarked Eleanor, sweeping up beside Fergus and resting a firm hand on his shoulder. Until that point she had hovered at the table's side silent. But now reason compelled her. "The messenger's finger was bloodied. He howled as he ran across the bridge. Perhaps he was telling us something, words he only discovered at the last minute to be impossible. He could not shout loud enough, so he attempted to write."

"And then he died in the process," finished Fergus for her, nodding in agreement. The grey stranger glanced at Eleanor with narrowed eyes but did not say anything. Beside him Fergus pushed the note to the center of the table again.

"_**SFAK VO ROD SFAK."**_

"Illegible," muttered the grey stranger. Behind him Eleanor shut her eyes and exhaled before picking up the note herself, garnering several raised brows from the men surrounding her. In determination she held the page in front of her and pointed to the words.

"Let us try to understand, to avoid our doom!" she hissed, throwing the note down in anger. Her long forefinger pointed to the bright red smears at the bottom of the note again.

"SFAK is repeated, betraying its importance. The two syllables between qualify this strange word. Then, SFAK again."

"What are you insinuating, madam?" murmured the grey man, the 's' traveling from between his hidden teeth as a sharp hiss. Eleanor glanced towards him without expression. "The letter F is most like T. K is similar to X, but it is also similar to Y. V is most similar to M, but N is fathomable."

"And?" Replied Dingwall with a look of indignation. At the other side of the table Lord Macintosh poked his finger up his bulbous nose and hunted around for whatever was in there, while Dingwall readjusted his kilt. Fergus gave a tired look to Eleanor and waved his hand for her to continue, but glanced at the men as she spoke. Yet the grey stranger kept his attention centered on her, his mouth pulled taught and his brows furrowed while his eyes danced with the torch flames surrounding.

"Stay, no road, stay," murmured Eleanor. For a moment all eyes fell on her in surprise. Then Macintosh grabbed the paper to decipher for himself. Before long Dingwall tried snatching it as well, after which Fergus yelled for both to stop, attempting to take the paper while Eleanor warned all of the note's delicacy. Yet as the last word fell from her lips, the paper was ripped in three parts and the bloodied end of the note lost. The three clan-men glanced at the mess dumbfounded, while Eleanor's mouth fell open in shock. Then Fergus straightened and looked to the gray stranger, who glanced from him to Eleanor with narrowed eyes before shrugging. "It is a noble assumption," he murmured, pointing to the note pieces again. "But it is still just that. Assumption. Little of its basis lays in reality."

With sagging shoulders Eleanor and Fergus met eyes, Eleanor's glance pleading and Fergus' conflicted. Standing, he held his hands behind his back and pursed his lips. Then pointing to the grey stranger he nodded, and Eleanor swept the hem of her dress from the ground and disappeared up the stairs to the bedrooms, while the hall below returned to life. "We should reach the Inn by eleven and leave at midnight," explained the grey stranger to the DunBroch clans. "There I will part ways with you to see that the most dangerous part of the road has been navigated." As she listened Eleanor veered around the hallway corner to her daughter's room and knocked on the door. The scabbard, bow, and quiver of arrows gleamed at her from the bed as she opened the door, their leather skin shining with importance. Eleanor glanced at their sharp frames before returning her gaze to the girls at the room's center.

"We are going," she murmured in a tight voice, gulping. "Soon. Are you done packing?" Juri and Merida nodded with vigor. "Good," responded Eleanor. "I will check on Maudie and the boys."

Again Eleanor swept from the room with the hem of her dress clutched in her fists like a rim of fate, her majesty solemn. Juri looked on her as she left, but soon returned her attention to her clothing. Pushing the rest of her belongings into her chest, she stood and paced, tapping her feet. Soon Merida finished packing as well. But instead of pacing she sat on the bed and ran her fingers over the bow and arrows laid carefully within her quiver. Juri set her rapier in scabbard atop her chest. Then she sighed. Both girls shared glances.

"Are you ready to leave?" murmured Juri. Merida shrugged and Juri scowled. "I always get the strangest feeling before journeys," muttered the girl. "A refusal to look back. A tightness of the throat," then she turned. "Do you feel it too?" Though Merida shrugged she nodded. Then there was a clattering on the handle of the door and Maudie burst into the room with Hamish, Harris, and Hubert following close behind. In indignation Merida stood and stamped her foot for Maudie to remove the boys, but the woman tugged Merida by her arm in signal for her to come downstairs. Servants slid behind her to collect Merida and Juri's chests, taking Juri's rapier and Merida's bow and arrow. Before the woman holding the weapons left, though, Juri commanded her to stay at the threshold of the bedroom door. Then, strutting an inch from the woman's nose, she hissed, "store these safely." The woman nodded and flew from the room with trembling knees, while Merida looked on the display with a grin. When the maid was gone she laughed. But Juri was silent in response, and before long left Merida for the great hall. For a minute Merida glanced about her room and took in its great space and frame. Then she set her hands on the long oaken legs that held up her bed.

As she stood again Maudie's shrill shout echoed through the hall and forced her to trudge downstairs and through the halls, to the stables where the carriages were being drawn with horses. Six, all manned by soldiers, held still directly before the gatehouse, where the seventy stone steps to the DunBroch bridge lay in wait of their horses' hooves. Angus stood proud at the front of the line, attached by long leather cables to the carriages, and Merida kissed him on the nose as she noticed her bow and arrow being stored carefully in the back of the last carriage. Juri's rapier had been hidden somewhere else, deep within the bowels of the carriage trunks where the clothing chests lay.

Eleanor's voice sang from the foot of the carriage line as she directed where the last of the chests would be kept. It had been decided few servants were needed, and as a result only Maudie and nine others were accompanying the party. The collection of seamstresses, cooks, and scullery maids scuttled towards the last carriage while the maids in waiting sauntered towards the fourth. The fifth was purely for baggage. But the first through third carriages would hold the family. Juri's mother crept towards the second carriage and Maudie, arms heavy with Merida's three brothers, hurried to the third. Merida and Juri had been allowed in the second, and as they stepped inside a loud cry came from within the great hall. Its doors that looked on the cobble courtyard flew open, and there were revealed the line of clan men. Dingwall and Macintosh walked side by side with Fergus while the grey man stayed in their shadows. All four made for the first carriage. But as Eleanor veered for the steps of the first carriage as well, Dingwall thwarted her. In confusion Eleanor attempted to step past him. But again she was blocked. In anger she stamped her foot and pointed to her husband.

"Am I not countess? Have I not always ridden at the front of the line, astride my husband?" she bellowed. But the clan men shook their heads while the grey stranger leaned towards her without expression. "We must discuss the route madam," he whispered. "Please delegate the children," added his grey mouth in offering, grinning widely as his eyes flashed silver. Fergus was silent beside him. Lost for words Eleanor nodded, turning and drifting to the second carriage with back bent in shame as she mounted its steps and sat inside, across from her daughter. Ten minutes passed before the crack of a whip sounded and the carriage line began to move. Then the clop of hooves on stone gave way to grass. There was stone again as they crossed the DunBroch bridge which overlooked the loch. But the hooves on grass returned, a dull thumping which rung through the night like the thud of a thousand heartbeats woven into one.

As the party drove on the temperature dropped, until all within the carriage could see the billow of warm molecules that made up their breath.

"Such a strange chill wind has passed in the last two days," commented Juri's mother, but no one responded. Beside her Eleanor averted her head and glanced out the carriage window, watching with clenched jaw as the landscape surrounding flew past while Juri and Merida stared straight ahead, Merida lost, Juri indignant. Soon any speech stopped altogether. For three hours they drove, until the night was well upon them and the moon crept to its highest among the stars. The lights of a village glowed softly in the distance, and Merida hissed for Juri to look out the window with her. Both girls looked on as the lights magnified and separated until they surrounded everything. Then the carriage party was upon it. Streetlamps, the windows of homes and taverns all drifted past until the vehicles stopped in front of an old inn on the outskirts of town. The wind drew twice cold in this place, away from the village's market. The clan men agreed by the moon's position that it was near midnight. Then they commanded their troops to enter the inn.

Uneasiness ruled all as the party marched towards the inn's entrance. Strange sorts wandered this place, people of which Merida possessed limited memory or knowledge. Even the ground was different, softer and darker, with little tufts of orange and green moss entwining its crown between the short grasses. When Merida peered towards the Inn's title, painted in white across its entrance doors, she noted the sign for bogwood. This village had been built on one of the northern bogs, cold, damp, and old.

"Merida!" called Eleanor in a sharp tone, and Merida flew towards her, squeezing beside her as she traveled inside the inn. Juri and her mother stood ahead while the accompanying soldiers opened a round of tables for the party. Already a raucous celebration had taken hold of the inhabitance, and what seemed like hundreds fit within a short fifty by fifty foot space swayed back and forth to the sound of their own warbling voices. While the grey stranger directed the men towards a secluded table on the far side of the enclave the women were banished to fight for their own space, squeezing at the end of a long table filled with motley, drunken creatures save one old crone, who wove leather as she ate bits from her plate of meat, low grade rabbit. Merida watched in wonder as the ancient woman picked its bones until Eleanor slapped her hand to scold her. "Be polite," muttered her mother, but Merida rolled her eyes and set her elbows on the table, knocking them against the wood as she looked around the room. When her gaze settled on Fergus she furrowed her brows.

"Why aren't you with father?" asked the girl in befuddlement. In reply Eleanor pursed her lips and heaved herself from the table, mumbling as she swept towards the bar. Beside Merida the crone finished her rabbit and pulled a faded fuchsia sack from beneath her shawl and emptied it of its coins. Then she counted the gold pieces one by one, her long tongue quivering from side to side as her fingers placed each counted coin to her left. One of her black eyes moved with her fingers. But the other flew back and forth in mad circles, watching the inhabitants of the inn. When its goggling black center fixed on Merida's head of fire, it narrowed and creased with the smile creeping across the crone's face. And as she finished counting the coins the crone swept them inside her pouch and held the sack out for Merida to take.

"Mightn't you get me a pint?" she asked in a mangled croak, pointing to her right leg, the one nearest to Merida. It held a long wooden brace at its side, tied with leather. "Cannot walk very well." Merida looked at the crone for a long moment before extending her hand to collect the fuchsia pouch. With a chuckle the old maid reached her own arm forward in reply, the sack dangling from between her bony fingers like a pendulum. As the shadow of Merida's palm hovered over them, the leathered knobs quivered and shot forward, catching the young fingers in their own to examine them. Both of the crown's eyes bent over the hand. Then with a click of the tongue they relinquished. "You have a mark on you. I think it is Esther's, I would know the mark of Esther anywhere. Wood and claw."

"Do you still want that drink?" asked Merida in ill ease. The crone nodded and emptied five of the coins into Merida's palm. Then she winked and turned back to her plate while Merida wandered to the bar beside her mother. Eleanor rubbed her forehead in exhaustion as she leaned on one of the stools, sighing back sleep that clung to her limbs. But at the sound of the five falling coins the tired eyes flew open and centered on Merida in shock. "Where did you get those?" hissed Eleanor, and Merida indicated the old woman. "She wanted a drink. She cannot walk."

"I will buy it then," growled the countess, narrowing her eyes as they fell on the crone's bent frame. "You cannot risk spending a witch's money at this hour." Surprised, Merida slunk back to the crone and shoved the five coins in front of her with a smile. Then she turned and sat on the other side of the table near Juri. Eleanor returned with the pint later, setting it with care against the table before giving a slight bow, so that the drink's owner peered at her through wide eyes, one lazy and the other mad with energy. "Are you the girl's mother?" asked the old woman in a whisper. Eleanor nodded, shuffling in discomfort while the crone fidgeted in front of her. Then the opposing eyes centered in revelation.

"I've got it!" gasped the crone, snapping her fingers before pointing to Eleanor's round complexion. Then her expression grew dark and calculating, her features scrunched to the center of her face.

"Whence danger lurks in every corm, return ye to your strongest form," hissed the ancient one. Then she blew in Eleanor's face and tapped her chin. "At least I think that is it." Shrugging, the crone swilled back her pint and wiped the remnants on her sleeve. After, she patted Eleanor's shoulder. "Swiftness is your greatest need. Journey now and take well heed." Emptying the five coins into Eleanor's hand, she threw her bum leg over the side of the table bench. Once its brace had been used to hoist the woman to her feet she hobbled forward with a form favoring her left side. Soon she had disappeared from the inn altogether, neither seen nor remembered by any save Eleanor. The countess stared from the crone to the coins in puzzlement, before discomfort made her hot and dizzy. Sick with anxiety she rung her arms in the sleeves of her cote and lurched towards her husband, who sat in deep discussion with Dingwall. The grey stranger was missing.

"Where is Lord Kozmotis?" asked Eleanor in a shrill whisper, but Fergus chuckled. "He is gone, Eleanor. Gone to tell his superiors of our coming with Macintosh at his side."

"We must leave now, Fergus," hissed Eleanor with a tight throat. Her expression grew hard. "If you do not leave with me you will leave without me. I am taking the maidens. Take your men as you will."

"Eleanor!" gasped Fergus, trundling after his wife with Dingwall close behind. As Fergus stumbled forward Eleanor called for her maidens and her family, commanding them towards the carriage line. All listened and moved within the blink of an eye, save for the remaining clan men, who stood at the threshold of the inn entrance with dropped jaws. Both exchanged looks before Fergus took Dingwall by the shoulder in decision. "I will move now," murmured the count. "Stay and guard my path."

"I don't want the people who killed MacGuffin coming after me!" barked Dingwall, hoisting up his kilt and scratching around the inside in ill ease. "I get itchy just thinking about it."

"Be brave, Dingwall!" growled Fergus in return, gripping his friend hard. Then he pulled Dingwall into a long hug, leaving both men teary eyed and sniffy. A candlestick hung from Dingwall's nose and he wiped it away on the back of his arm, leaving a long line of green goo over his wrist. But both men nodded and parted ways, Fergus towards the carriages and Dingwall towards the bar. When Fergus stepped into the night air once more, the carriages were waiting for him. Eleanor sat within the first, straight as a rod with eyes pointed forward into eternity. In silence her husband took his seat beside her. Then, Eleanor commanded the carriages forward and the horses moved in agitation, their eyes darting back and forth in strange expectation.


	5. The Night Mares

The city of Bogwood soon gave way to its namesake until its soggy moss-ridden road became hard and moist. The carriages drove faster as they moved by the marshes and then the swamps. The hanging trees concealed their path, throwing the party into deep shadow even from the moon, which peeked at them through pockets. Then its light faded completely, and all was dark. Angus' hooves clopped against the moist ground twice as fast as before, and his breathing became labored, heavy with trepidation. Within the carriages the silence was cutting, so sharp that every breath was a whisper. No one dared look out the window save Merida. She wrung her hands as the dark trees moved past her, the vines strangling their branches swaying softly with the chill wind passing through, that strange wind that Merida had felt in DunBroch on the night of their departure. Merida's breath billowed up in front of her and she shivered. It was so cold.

As Merida stared into the night a strange thing happened to her carriage window. First was the crisp sound of splintering, then a drop of temperature. But when fracturing tendrils took shape on the surface of the glass, climbing up its pane in the form of delicate ice ferns, their leaves branched in a spiral. At its center lay two hovering yellow lights, visible from behind the farthest trees of the distant swamp. Constantly their forms followed the carriage, blinking and bobbing up and down like eyes. As Merida watched them she tugged the hem of Juri's dress, making her cousin look out the window as well. There was the sound of sucking breathe, then exhale. Juri blinked and glanced again. The yellow lights had multiplied and grown, attached to the faces of galloping beasts which ran along with the carriage. The moon reappeared from between the boughs of the trees and cast its glow against the backs of the creatures, smooth black as shadows. Their manes flowed behind their backs like wisps of smoke, and their skin shimmered like bits of sand. Horses.

"We are followed," breathed Merida. But as she spoke the ice tendrils disappeared and the horses receded into the dry forests ahead of the swamp path. Still the carriages moved on. Juri wrung her fingers in the hem of her dress as time passed, her eyes moving back and forth as she calculated within her mind. Her mother lay asleep on the other end of the carriage, stirring with a nightmare. Juri kicked her foot to wake her, but the woman only blinked before laying her head against the side of the car to sleep again. Merida bit her nails. For thirty minutes more the carriages moved on, faster than before. As the ride became bumpier Juri's mother woke again and stayed awake. No one spoke. And then the carriage line came to a halt, and voices rung through the air.

Lurching forward and opening the carriage door, Merida swung her legs over the ladder steps attached to its side and evaded Fergus' guards. Juri followed shortly after. But both girls halted as they peered at the road ahead, which forked on the right towards a large campground, set in the center of a small, circular space absent of trees. Walls of evergreens barred its sides like battlements and Merida peered into them as she stepped forward. It was as if they moved. Then the rumbling voice of her father caught her ear and transported her again.

He stood before the fire, the center of the campground still replete with tents, cooking tools, and weapons. A large thread of rope split into fifteen cords for the parking of horses, empty, encircled the trunk of a massive tree bordering the grounds. The air was sweet with the smell of meat, and the remnants of this meal lay sprawled near the logs used as seats surrounding the fireplace. With clenched fists Fergus lumbered towards them with his men, who inspected the ground through darting eyes. When Merida stepped after him a sharp hiss entered her ear, and when she turned she noticed her mother peering from behind the door of the first carriage. Her eyes pointed back to the end of the vehicle line, commanding Merida to step no further. Scowling, Merida obeyed and trudged back to her carriage. But when she stepped inside her brows furrowed. Juri was gone.

"Baroness?" whispered Merida to Juri's sleeping mother. There was the sound of stumbling feet outside, and then groaning. In the sky, the blue clouds that covered the stars were conquered, and the moon was made visible once more, this time at its highest. Its light bent over the campground road and illuminated a great shadow, which lurched from the first carriage and lolloped into the woods to the left. Then there was a gurgled moan, a calling from a great beast. A bear.

Merida flew from the inside of the second carriage and charged towards the first, calling out for her mother in a high-pitched voice. But the inside of the vehicle was empty. Merida's chest tightened as her brows furrowed in confusion. Perhaps she was imagining the sounds. The moon cast strange light against this forest, and the shadows shimmered around the trees like animals. "Juri!" called Merida in desperation. A flash of red hair bobbed through the trees on the forest's left and was gone. Merida stepped towards it with chattering teeth.

"Sir!" a soldier cried, capturing Fergus' attention at the campground. The men shivered from cold and fear. Then the shouting guard pointed towards the fire pit with a somber expression. The guards stepped back save for the one. But Fergus drew towards the ashen pit and the young man indicated it again. With pursed lips Fergus set his fingers amongst the coal and gasped.

"Still warm," murmured the count in a low growl. Then his teeth clenched. "But wet."

Fergus' soldier opened his mouth to speak. But instead of calling words, a low gurgle escaped his throat. Then, swaying back and forth, the man lurched forward and tumbled into the fireplace. The tick of thin snapping wood sliced the air as his throat fell against the ashes, and at the nape of his neck protruded a sharp bump, just underneath the skin. When Fergus knelt near the boy and pressed against the mark, the skin fell away and revealed iron. And it was then that Fergus remembered his long sword.

With a lunge the count fired towards the first carriage and reaching out his arm, calling for his sword. But as the echo of Fergus' roar drew through the valley, so did the cries of a great cacophony of men, dark warriors who materialized from the trees surrounding the campsite like colorless fiends. As they slithered up from the forest bed they brandished swords dark and mangled, curved and beaten by hands of iron hammer, the hardened remains of fallen men's weapons. Without diction they hissed in garbled tongue and flew straight for the carriages, a hundred at most but seventy at least. Then arrow rounds began to fly from the back of the charging line.

Merida watched in horror as their glimmering points reached up to the moon before bowing back down, sailing into the heads of several of the carriage guards, who tumbled to the ground like clay. From the third carriage there was a scream, and a terrified Maudie burst forward and towards the forest, followed by three bobbing dark shadows. The shadows whined and tugged on the woman's dress, biting it, and Maudie batted at them with the palm of her hand. In the fourth carriage the heads of the servants peeked from the windows. The sixth was no doubt the same.

"Maudie!" screamed Merida, running as fast as she could. The hem of her long dress snagged on a long vine grown into the road and slowed her. But when she heaved the dress back and heard the searing rip of its long hem Merida used her momentum to barrel forward, reaching her arm out for the manic nursemaid, her image of blaring clarity in the moon's light. Maudie's flailing arms glowed pearl blue in the night air, and her face was pasty and white bar the dark mass that grew up behind her. Slowly its long black arm slid forward and braced itself around her jowls, and in horror Merida watched as the nursemaid was thrust backwards until she tripped on her feet and fell down, dragged into the mass of forest men amidst anguished screams. Then the beast that threw her turned his head and met eyes with Merida. With lumbering steps he trudged towards her, unsheathing the great black sword at his belt and grinning as its edge shimmered grey. Gulping, Merida stepped away from him and glanced around her, towards the forest and then to the fifth carriage trunk that held her long bow. Slowly she stepped towards it.

"You are the daughter," growled the man from beneath a mass of brown beard. With a whistle he called for others, who lumbered towards him as Merida tread for the fifth carriage. Her eyes kept trained on the concealed brow of the man as she stepped back. "I am the baroness's daughter," Merida stalled, feeling the soft leather of the carriage trunk against her outreached arm. Slowly she slid her fingers inside its flap and searched for the familiar quiver and wood. A freezing wind whipped between she and the beast man, blowing his long hair to the side and thwarting his path forward. But he stepped through it. "I think you are lying."

"Maybe," hissed Merida in response. Tough cast leather brushed past her fingers and fell aside to reveal the warm thin wood of arrows, and then a bent, leather bound pole attached with reverse twisted hemp string. But as she closed her fingers around and tugged, it would not budge. _"Store these safely," _echoed Juri's words in her mind. With chattering teeth Merida glanced past the enclosing men towards the woods on the left side of the road.

In a single breath the chill wind that had followed the party to this point whipped up stronger than ever, ripping the leaves from the swaying evergreens and pulling their teardrop forms in a spiral around the men encircling Merida. Soon a sea of green air barred the assailants from the girl with hair of fire, and she fell to her knees and slipped beneath the wheels of the carriages, darting towards the woods in fear. When she looked back she gasped. Like an invisible hand the wind opened the carriage trunk and untied her bow and arrow from its keep. Then, on a cloud of air the weapons floated to Merida and threw themselves in her arms. Catching the familiar quiver and bow and holding them to her chest, Merida gritted her teeth and tried lunging back into the battle in the valley. But the green leaf wind blew itself towards her and obstructed her path, forcing her with a mad howl back into the woods.

"Let me go!" cried Merida in a shrill voice, forcing her way through the barrier of leaved wind so that its petioles scratched the skin of her face. Thrashing her arms about, Merida tried fighting her way forward, grabbing an arrow from her quiver and stringing it through her bow. But the wind was so strong it bent the wood in half, snapping the arrow at its center. Cursing, Merida threw the bow over her back and lunged forward, tripping and falling against the ground. With a final roar the wind picked her up by the foot and flew her through the forest, between the trees and towards the swamps at the back of the woods. As she rode on the wind's back Merida's ears caught the braying of horses, and suddenly the carrying air stopped and let her fall to the ground. "Ow!" she hissed, but the wind shushed her in a human voice. Fearful, Merida shut her mouth and huddled close to the ground.

In the distance, the beating of hooves rang out through the woods, and the howl of horses shivered the trees. Then the bobbing yellow eyes of the night mares blinked into view in the distance, traveling ever closer to Merida's hidden form. The wind disappeared and the night grew warm again. But before the mares drew too close, a break in the clouds revealed a long line of moonlight, which searched through the trees in a clear bright line. When its form traveled over the swamp the surface began to bubble and whine, until little blue balls of flames popped from beneath its waves and hovered over the water. They inched their way towards the woods and drifted along in a line towards the mares. Then, when the blinking yellow eyes of the horses spotted the wisps, they widened and burned in fright. With a loud cry the beasts reared on their hind legs and peeled in the opposite direction, disappearing into the far side of the forest. Then, the wisps and moon disappeared, leaving Merida in complete darkness. Though her fear paralyzed her she fidgeted and pursed her lips to keep from crying out, while the moist cooling wind lulled her to sleep.


	6. The Spirit

The heat from the following day had gone and the forest was quiet. Little snowflakes sank through the air as if too light to penetrate it. Suspended, they drifted down in a straight, slow line, collecting in little huddles against the ground as packed white. The pines of the evergreens shivered with the strange cold. The red squirrels and rabbits scurried back and forth in confusion, pursued with glee by the foxes and little cats that bounded after them. And beneath a blanket of snow-downed bog grass laid Merida, teeth chattering while she slept. But as the snowflakes began stinging the cuts on her cheeks her eyes scrunched and opened, widening as they adjusted to their surroundings. Dazed, she stumbled from the ground and sank her leather bound feet through the snow. The sweat under her arms had cooled to ice and made her sides numb. But in ignorance of it she held out her hands and caught the falling white flakes in her arms as they drifted from the clouds low in the sky.

"Snow in August," she whispered, examining the flakes as their crystalline shapes popped to bubbles against the skin of her palms. As each destroyed itself in heat Merida's memory returned and she let her hands fall to her sides. When she reached to her back she found her quiver and arrows in their rightful places. And then she rushed forward.

Bounding over logs and stumps and dodging mad scurrying animals, Merida whizzed through the forest in the direction she had come the night before. Though she tried forcing herself to be silent hoarse whispers escaped her throat, until her panic was so great that she moaned with anxiety. Prayers ran backwards and forwards through her mind as she sang them to the wind. But when she reached the clearing where the night battle had taken place her mind ceased and fell through her ribs, swimming down into her gut and disappearing as her eyes widened.

The carriages were gone, as were most of the trunks of chests. The snow was so heavy in this area that it reached to Merida's knees, and the wind cried as flakes fell from its clouded cheeks like tears. As Merida stepped forward something hard caught her foot, but when she looked down she gasped. The body of the man who had chased her laid frozen beneath waves of white save for his head, which gaped from the surface of the snow with blue cheeks and rolled back irises. His mouth hung open and his purple tongue lolled over his lips like the entrance to a deep cave. It disgusted Merida, but she forced herself to look at it. Her fear was that she would be confronted with much worse.

Dizzy as she forced herself forward, Merida stared around for any sign of life, any movement. But everything lay dead and still. Though the road was thin it stretched before Merida's eyes like eternity, unchartable. Stepping around in a circle, she let her teal blues flow over its expanse, even training her vision towards that dreaded campsite. It was there she saw the mound.

Tall and black it stood like a sluggish creature, bent and tired. Its breath rose from its belly as smoke, carried into the sky in little turrets. Its body was a collection of things, piled up at the center of the campsite where the fire had been. Each organism within possessed gawking limbs, bent in all directions in grotesque display of disarray. Merida snorted in puzzlement as she stepped towards it. It was certainly not clothing, although there were some articles strewn over the strange black creatures inside. And it was not wood or stone, though there were smashed planks of wood beneath it, the green and gold paint from their exteriors peeling onto the ground surrounding. So what was this strange dumping of things?

Merida felt a lump rising in her throat and gulped it back down, growing dizzy again. Her stomach hurt. The smell from the mound was revolting, and caused the food left in her stomach to gurgle and twist. When the stench filtered through her nose and settled at the roof of her mouth Merida spit hard, wiping her mouth savagely with her hand. Her forearm was stained with droplets of warm water now, and her eyes stung. The moisture that hung over her irises acted as a kind of magnifying glass. Instead of blurring, the world around her shone with blaring clarity. The leaves of the trees grew unfathomably green. Their brown bark glared and Merida could see every sinew, every cambium cell that lay against their backs. The sky was so grey and the ground so white. The mound seared through the center of it all like a burn mark, a shadow or a hole, twinkling with bits of burnt color. Merida stepped towards it with heaving breath and furrowed brows. Then she moaned.

The gnarled remains of a hand hung from the side of the mound like the mass's own arm. Merida glanced to a different part of the pile. Charred bones held together by sinews connecting arms and legs twisted without reason. Skulls took shape amongst them, their jaws open and eyes burnt out. But Merida counted three bodies ending at the neck. One was small and thick, another willowy, and the last a vast creature with a mangled left leg, absent of bone to its knee. Merida's mouth fell open as she viewed this one, and her throat emitted a low whine unlike any sound she had made before.

"No," she whispered as her hand fell above the missing knee, casting a shadow against the charred thigh. "No!" she screeched again. In a rage she tore the hair from her head and beat her feet against the ground, screaming to the sky, which howled back at her in anguish. "How could you?" roared Merida to the air, "How could you?" Then she began to cry. The wind was so cold that the moisture froze against her cheeks. But as she finished mourning she gulped back what was left in her stomach and placed her hands around the vast skeleton's waist, heaving it from the pile and nuzzling her nose into the crook of her neck at the ensuing smell. The stench of burnt flesh rose in a puff of steam from the mound's center in a low gurgle, but with gritted teeth Merida continued to heave. The wind aided her pursuit and flowed from behind, pulling her waist and tipping her backwards as tears began falling from her eyes. Their watery globules blurred her vision and made her stumble. Yet in the earth's unclear image Merida was certain she saw the wind heave the top of the mound into the air so that her father's skeleton could remove itself from within.

Ripping the body from beneath the mound and letting it collapse to the side, Merida drew her bow and arrow from behind her back and aimed.

"Who is there?" she hissed, treading forward on silent feet. The snowflakes surrounding her halted their sky fall and suspended themselves. "Are you a spirit that is haunting me?" asked Merida further. Then she stamped her feet and yelled, "Answer me!" so that the wind picked up again, snapping her arrow and bending her bow.

"Come out and fight like a true warrior!" screeched Merida, kicking up ashes in the air's face. Before her an image began to form, and as her eyes widened and her belief strengthened it took on the shape of a young boy, covered in tattered clothing. His bare feet hovered in the air and his fingers held tightly to a staff of gnarled wood, which spiraled at the tip. As Merida watched him her eyes widened and she gasped, tripping backwards over her father's body and bumping her head against one of the surrounding evergreen trunks. At first the boy was translucent, road visible from behind his back. But now he filled out, and Merida saw that his matted hair was paler than ice, though the roots were black. His teeth were the color of snow and the cuticles of his nails glowed blue, as did the crystalline irises set in the eyelids above his high cheeks. Those blue eyes stared at Merida in confusion as their owner fell to the ground and stepped forward.

"You... can see me?" whispered the boy in shock, gripping his staff tightly. In a fit of terror Merida strung another arrow and fired it right through the boy's chest, watching in horror as it whizzed into the trunk of a tree at the edge of the snow covered road behind. The boy swiveled his head around and sighed as he saw the arrow. When he turned his head back his eyes burned with nervous excitement. "I have never met someone who could see me before!"

"Who are you?" commanded Merida, though her voice was hoarse. The boy smiled and bowed, his feet lifting up behind him as he tipped his body forward.

"I'm Jack Frost."

"What?" Merida croaked. Jack laughed. "I'm Jack Frost. I command snow and ice. Wanna see?"

"Why do you speak strangely?" snapped Merida, gripping her bow tighter. Jack shrugged and fell to his feet again. "All the spirits speak like this."

"Spirits?" Merida whispered, to which Jack nodded. With a wide grin he twirled up into the air once more, this time sitting cross-legged against his staff as if it were a swing. He indicated around him.

"There are a lot of spirits out there, none as important as me," he added with a sly chuckle. When Merida did not respond his breath fell flat. "That was a joke."

"I do not find you funny," hissed Merida in response, crouching as she tried stepping forward. "I find you terrifying."

"That's not good," sighed Jack in response, descending once more. This time his feet stayed against the snow covered ground and sank amongst the flakes. "I never wanted to be _feared_..."

"Why did you hide me last night?" Merida spat as she remembered. She was sure it was he who had lifted her by the foot and flown her through the forest to the swamp. "Why did you not let me fight astride my father, who died protecting his family while I lied hidden beneath snow?" To this onslaught Jack hunched against himself and backed away from Merida, his blue eyes widening. Merida expelled the bad taste that was traveling up her throat by hocking. Then tears rolled from her cheeks again and she collapsed into the snow beside her father. His clothes and rings had been taken from him. The broach that clung his cloak to his back was gone. The bone was gnarled where his head had been severed. Feet shifted behind Merida and a hazy shadow fell over the white ground beside her. It was Jack, bending to look at the body. His eyes were sad as the snowflakes began falling once more. "You would've died if you'd stayed," he muttered. With a twisted grimace Merida turned and shouted, "Better to die than to cower in the woods!"

"You are being ridiculous!" snapped Jack in return, the wind howling as he gritted his teeth. "How would you have avenged him if you were dead and headless too?" then he folded his arms before his chest and bent towards her. "That wouldn't have been very convenient."

"Do not speak of my father like he is a lump of wood!" cried Merida, gripping her bow in her hand. Jack snickered and flew into the air, resting against a tree branch. "Well he's pretty dead."

Enraged, Merida flew towards Jack and grabbed his feet, swinging him around her and causing him to fly through the air when she let him go. Narrowly dodging a tree the boy cried out and flew back at her, resting before her with a glare while Merida drew to ready position. "Let's fight." She hissed, spitting at his feet. "Without your staff or snow and without my bow."

For a moment Jack's eyes widened in disbelief. But then they narrowed and his grin widened. Shrugging the staff from his arm and laying it softly to the ground as Merida did her weaponry, Jack shifted with slow steps towards his opponent. Then Merida lunged and Jack dodged, laughing as she stumbled into a tree. Cursing under her breath Merida turned back and lunged again, this time barely missing his dirty tunic before his feet hovered into the air. "Cheater!" Merida roared, pointing to his suspended toes, and Jack scowled and set them back into the snow. Charging one more time, Merida evaded the boy's flying fist and grabbed him around the waist, tackling the boy to the ground and getting a handful of his hair in her hands. Then she pressed his face into the snow to suffocate him. Hacking and spluttering Jack shook his head from Merida's grasp as she sat on his back with gritted teeth. "You win!" squeaked the spirit, trying to lift himself from the ground without his powers- but he was quite skinny. "I said you win!"

"I demand an apology on behalf of my father," replied Merida.

"I was the one who helped you get him out of the pile!" snapped Jack in return. When Merida did not get off his back he scowled. "I'm sorry," the boy mumbled finally. "For being mean to your dad."

"Apology taken on this occasion," responded Merida. Pushing herself up she got off the ground and reclaimed her weaponry, throwing Jack his staff. By this time the fall of snowflakes had stopped and the clouds disappeared, revealing a warm summer sun. The field of white had already begun to melt. Jack stood amidst the dying winter with shuffling feet, pressing his shaking fingers against his staff.

"You know..." he started, capturing Merida's attention. Then he hesitated. "You and I are alike in certain ways. We both have similar... problems," he added in a murmur. Then his crystalline eyes turned up to meet Merida's deep teal blues. "And I know solutions."

"What do you mean by 'solutions'?" questioned Merida, matching Jack's pitch. Jack shrugged and grinned with nervous energy. Then his smile disappeared, replaced by a smolder that hid great bitterness and fear. "I want to help you," he whispered.

"To do what?"

Again Jack hesitated, uncomfortable with his own mind. But then his teeth gritted and his fists curled until his knuckles grew purple. "I want to help you take revenge."

Merida gripped her bow and quiver tight in her arms and looked down at the body of her father. When she glanced back to her companion he understood and drifted towards her, using the wind to pick up the body. "Where do you want it?" he murmured. Merida shrugged. "By water. By a loch." She added in sadness. Jack nodded and whizzed high into the air above the trees, setting his palm above his forehead to peer around. Then with a cry he pointed into the distance. "The swamp empties out into a river, and then a lake. It's fifteen miles."

"Fifteen miles?" cried Merida. When Jack looked down at her he grinned. Then he cried out to the wind and it answered, swirling around him as he pointed to the body. Its charred frame lifted from the ground and drifted through the air. But as Merida glanced from it to the pile, her heart constricted and she gulped, calling for Jack to stop. The skeleton fell to the dust and Jack joined her as she pointed in a different direction, to the mound. "There were three bodies without heads. What does that mean?" she asked. "Why did the others not have their heads cut?"

To this Jack became somber and shuffled his feet. His lashes lay low over his irises, which were cast down. Then he cleared his throat. "Beheading is reserved for nobles."

For a moment Merida could not understand. But it was not long. Her palms sweated as she dashed to the mound again, examining the remaining bodies without heads. One was small, normally sized, while the other was tall and willowy. "Who were they?" she cried, turning and advancing on Jack, who drifted into the air and held his staff before him for protection. Merida stamped her feet. "Tell me who they were!"

"There was a maid," murmured the pale boy, still drifting. "When one of the men went to assault her she... she said that she was count's daughter, princess Merida."

"She told them she was me?" Merida breathed. "What did they do to her then?"

Jack did not want to speak further. But he had been compelled, and twitched in distress.

"They assaulted her anyway," he muttered. "That's when I went back to check on you. When I returned she and a woman were dead. The older one was tall with straight red hair. And they had beheaded the count. I left again and didn't come back until the morning."

Heart beating hard, Merida ran through the chain of events in her head. Three presumed nobles were killed. One was Fergus. The next was a maid masquerading as herself. And then was Juri's mother. What about her own? Merida's mind seared to the image the night before, the one of the great shadow lolloping from Eleanor's carriage. Another of Maudie, screaming as she exited her own, followed by three little shadows. Then her eyes widened.

"My mother might live," breathed Merida. Jack looked up in confusion and Merida addressed him. "I am certain the fiends thought that Juri's mother was my own. The maid looked alike to me. And my brothers are out there somewhere. No one knows about Juri. And they think I'm dead."

"How could your mother be alive?" whispered Jack. "Was she not with you?"

Ignoring him, Merida responded with beating breast, "Did you see any monstrous animals roaming the woods that night?" Jack thought about it with bent brows and pursed lips. But he shook his head. With sagging shoulders Merida nodded and touched her hand to her heart. She did not see how Eleanor could have escaped the attack. But then there was Juri.

"I am exhausted," Merida murmured. "I want all the bodies buried. My father would have been buried with his people."

"The wind can't lift all of them, Merida," whispered Jack, but Merida pointed towards the swamp. "Is that too far?" Jack shook his head. One by one the bodies were lifted and placed beside the water. When Merida squinted she could see a great loch in the distance, and her heart sang for it. But it was far. "Help me dig," muttered Merida. Jack nodded and called to the wind again, while Merida dug into the soft swamp dirt with her hands. Soon every body was buried beneath a thin layer of soil. There were not enough stones to cover all of the graves. So Merida covered her father's and Juri's mother's. "I wish I could find Maudie's." she murmured. The remaining stones were settled equally amongst all of the graves. As the living mourned beside, their feet sinking into the swamp dirt surrounding, Jack's brows furrowed and he tapped his toes.

"I did see one, actually," the boy murmured. Merida stood silent beside him. Though he was melancholy he chuckled. "I've been around for awhile, and in all the time I've roamed these parts I never saw one till now."

"What are you talking about?" sighed Merida. The sun was again hidden behind the clouds, while a glimmer of the moon's crescent still lay present, far off at the tip of the skyline. Merida could feel the dead air of the grave mound against her body, and its stench lingered on the tips of her hair. Only a second had passed since Merida's question. Time drew on invariably and she wrung her fingers. Then Jack responded.

"A bear."


	7. Drago

From the sky, the Błędowska badlands appeared an unfortunate blot of ruddy yellow canvas intermitted with specks of green shrubs. Across its scarred surface crawled a black inching of ants, the kind of image that appears in the periphery of one's vision, like a floating black mote that is rubbed with fingers yet never goes away. The heat was unusual, and the thick-leathered party lumbered forward without word. Their feet thrummed at the same pace, the back foot dragging in place of the front foot with a collective thump every time, in a dull heartbeat. Amidst the wagons they pulled, the packs on their backs, the spears that reached high into the air, there rose one vehicle larger than any other. Its shape and color were strange. Smeared black with ash to conceal its smooth gold and teal, the carriage drove the crown of the line. None stored their packs in its trunks. Instead they remained against their shoulders.

A whistle resounded from the pack and one of the mass's inhabitants scrambled from within towards a low rock hill, pulling himself against its back and peering over the landscape with his palm shielding his eyes. When his vision settled he cried out, pointing far in the distance behind. From the front of the line the Rumble horn was blow, and at once a shadow with round dark center and great arched sides blotted the sun. Once it disappeared, a path broke at the black army's center, and a looming shape passed between, the metal of its concealed arm clinking and whirring as a machine. It was a man, or not a man, with jagged teeth ground together above its gums. In vehemence it spit against the ground, saliva black with blood from the night before. With a wide stumbling gate the stranger lolloped towards the messenger on the rock face and threw him down by the scruff of his neck, wrenching him forward and growling at him. In fear the attendant pointed behind him again, and the master's eyes widened.

Stumbling towards the army was a lanky lad. His auburn hair looked as if he had cut it himself, and his face was smeared with dirt and crumpling bits of leaves. His body was wrapped with linen coils, but above he wore a wide tunic and saggy green trousers. Legs and feet were bare and bloodied. The master of the black army looked on him with a smirk as he bowed. Once the boy stood again, laughter and whistles emanated through the ranks. "What a pretty girl," mocked the messenger, but his master beat him in the chest to keep him from speaking again. Then he himself stepped towards the lad, examining him from back and front. In a flash he grasped the young man's hands in his own and felt them. Deep, fresh welts were etched along their lines, and the fingernails were caked in mud. Index, palm, and little finger possessed small callouses. The master chuckled and let the lad go. With a whistle his men followed his tread, and soon they moved again, leaving the lad to stand at the back of the line.

"Wait!" called the boy, and the master of the army turned again. The lad held out his hands and puffed up his chest. "I want to join you!" he breathed. A great laugh blew up from the crowd as they looked towards the master. The messenger lumbered to his leader's side and curled back his lips, exposing long canines. "What should we do with her?"

"I am a man and can fight!" roared the lad in response. "All I require is weaponry!"

At this the messenger let out a guffaw. The master only narrowed his eyes before chuckling himself, looking from one young man to the other. Then he snapped for the messenger to step forward. In confusion the large boy did. Ahead, the auburn lad waited in silence as the master lumbered towards him. When the beast of a human was a foot distance from the boy, he heaved his thick wrist over his shoulder and unsheathed his own long sword, setting it in the lad's outstretched palm. The moment the master let go, the lad groaned and the sword fell to the ground. It was heavy. As the lad gritted his teeth and heaved the blade again snickers rose from the mouths of the army men. But soon the mangled black weapon lay tucked against the crook of the boy's neck. For a moment he played with the sword to calculate its momentum and weight, which was steep. This was a slow weapon, unlike any he had ever used. But now there was no turning back. With a smoldering glance he stood tall and waited.

"Finish him, Eret," murmured the master in the messenger's ear. "The dragon hungers."

"Yes, Drago," responded Eret with a hiss. Unsheathing his own long sword and gripping it in his hands, he stepped towards the auburn boy, and the auburn boy stepped towards him. Taking his knife, Eret cut a thin line in his palm, so that the blood dripped slowly. Then, he spit upon it, and held out his hand for the auburn boy to take. After going through the same ritual, the lad complied, and the promise was made. "If I win," whispered Eret with a grin, "You get to meet a dragon."

"What about if I win?" whispered the lad. Drago chuckled. "If you win, Eret is fed to the dragon."

"Drago!" cried Eret, and the man snorted. "You think you cannot defeat the "pretty girl"?" There was more laughter. Eret gritted his teeth. "I've seen enough battles, sir," murmured the messenger, "to never bet steep unless desperate." Then he turned back to the lad and narrowed his eyes. "Go on, name your stakes."

"I join the group and you leave," murmured the lad. Eret raised his brows but nodded. The opposing parties shook hands before moving to the opposite ends of the dirt ring, constructed by one of Drago's men in the yellowing sand. Across the desert, it seemed, stood more of a bull than a man, gripping its sword tightly in hand. It would not hesitate to kill. But still, the lad swept what was left of his curls from his forehead and tightened his twitching jaw. "On my count, the battle commences," drawled Drago from outside the ring. Then he curled his forefingers around the sides of his lips and whistled. From within the ash-smeared wagon at the center of the army, a strange chair was pulled, constructed of bones and leather. Some of the hides sewn to its back had been boiled of their hair, while others were left furred. The lad averted his eyes in revulsion. Then, unable to draw them away, he managed one more glance. He should not have looked.

Mangled bones of tiny hands gripped the arms of the chair, and across their backs laid a mangy cloak of black. It was then that the lad saw the green cloak Drago wore was not his own. Entwining the two halves of the cloak collar beneath the master's scarred chin was a broach. Within, a trio of bears pursued the backs of fleeing triskelions for eternity. Behind Drago, above the mangy black cloak sprawled across the seat of the chair, there trembled three heads, slack jawed and grey. Had flies not eaten their eyes, they too would have watched the battle, the last moments of their lives painted in their irises. But now, forever, they groaned in silence. As the lad looked on the faces in terror Drago watched him and chuckled, tapping the first, bearded chin with his forefinger. "You like my handy work, lad?"

The boy did not respond. Instead he turned his gaze to Eret, his fists and forearms trembling with anger. Eret laughed as he looked on the lad's expression. But the boy could not hear it. All that resounded within his eardrums was the beat of his blood. His glance stared forward without hesitation. In reply Eret's own smile disappeared. Somber, he picked up his sword and twirled it in his hands. "When do we go?" he asked. Drago shrugged and snapped for a man to bring him water. "When I drink," he murmured. "Whoever leaves the ring loses their head."

Taking the size of the ring in one glance, the small lad gave a nod, gripping the sword again in his hands. Then he stood straight and called out to Drago, "I require cloth for my palms." The army was bent with laughter. But Drago himself tore ribbon from the side of his tunic and handed it to the lad, who took it and wrapped his palms quickly. Eret looked on in disgust. When the lad was still, the water was brought to the master and he held the goblet high. Then, as he wet his lips and slurped, feet began pounding around him, loud roars filtered from desert to ring, chants and yelps until the whole black army rumbled and shook in unrest. Within the ring, the lad's vision was blurred by sweat. Still, he never once let go of his blade. It stayed gripped in his palm as he crouched to the ground and wiped his forehead with the hem of his tunic. Eret stepped towards him with flexed muscles, his long sword gripped in both hands. Then he swung.

With a loud thud the metal severed the air and landed deep within the soil, just missing the lad's calf as he swerved away. Picking his blade from the ground as if it were a feather, Eret lumbered back to the lad whose shoulders tensed as he tried lifting his own. Again Eret swung, and again the lad dodged, sliding Drago's sword behind him as he charged to the right. He knew he could not maintain close combat. He would have to strike from afar, an impossible feat with a long sword. It was much too heavy. Crouching and inching forward with the blunt end of the weapon rested against his thigh, the lad examined Eret as he paced back and forth. Then, as the older boy trundled forward the lad lunged and dug the long sword against his opponent's ruddy knee. Eret gave a yelp and flew back, pressing his fingers around the blood. Then with gritted teeth he pounced.

Chasing the lad along the outskirts of the ring, Eret swung his sword again, in an attempt to catch the lad's stomach. He could not. His dull thwacks were too slow for the youth's spindly frame, which twisted out of his opponent's way like the legs of a spider. The lad lunged again, forcing Eret backwards. A loud yelp came from the crowd, and though Eret could not look behind his feet, he knew that they lay on the edge of the ring. With a howl he rolled to the side, the lad's blade point slicing across his shoulder. Now the youth's hands did not shake. Snarling, Eret charged again. The youth dodged and tripped his opponent, sending dust into his brown eyes and shoving his foot against the bigger boy's ass so that he stumbled just within the ring border. Before he could risk losing his head, he sat on the ground and crawled. Under his breath the lad cursed.

Now Eret hung close to the ground on all fours, his sword gripped beneath him, held by one hand. With his other he disheveled the dirt surrounding and picked up a chunk. Quickly the youth averted his eyes, and the sand Eret threw fell against his back as he sprung to the side. When he looked back the bigger lad was upon him. With all his strength the elder boy grabbed the youth by the shoulders and heaved him out from within the circle. Unable to let go, the lad clung to Eret's frame and bit the side of his neck, making the man roar in displeasure and swivel around. Just as Eret's fist made contact with the lad's side, the youth fell to the ground and crawled backwards, breathing in ragged gusts as he clutched his ribs. From the corner of his eye, he looked out at the men watching the fight and saw their lubricated gaze, the thirst for blood dripping in dribbles of saliva from their lips. But on one of their backs there twinkled a long, thin blade. A rapier.

Eret's fist slammed into the youth's cheek. With a cry the lad curled his face to the side and rolled over, avoiding the brunt of the attack as his antagonist pinned him down with his legs. Now the men surrounding cheered as Eret picked up his blade and pointed it above the lad's nose. But the lad curled to the side, bit Eret in the chest and punched him in the groin, sending the man groaning backwards so that he could scramble from beneath. His long leg met with Eret's back and shoved him forward again. When the bigger boy's face fell outside the circle and the youth pointed, Drago shook his head. "All of him," the master growled, and the youth's shoulders sagged. "Kill him!" roared the crowd. Before the lad could comply Eret jumped up again. Throwing his own blade out from the ring, he slunk forward and picked the lad up by his knees. Then, holding the young man high above his head, he chucked him through the air.

With a crash the lad's spindly frame left the ring and landed on unmarked ground. Howls of wild men surrounded as the army fell upon him, their heads crashing into one another as they tried grasping his auburn hair. But the lad slithered from the crowd like a sharp edged snake, and with a gasp he reached for the man with the rapier and slid the weapon from its sheath. Before its owner could bark in disapproval the lad drove the pointed end of the rapier through the man's eye and into the cavity of his skull. From a second combatant the lad drew a dagger. Then in a swift draw he sliced the man's throat. After these corpses fell, their living brothers blinked in surprise and stepped backwards in hesitance. Holding the rapier over his head and the dagger thrust forward, the youth gritted his teeth and tread with light, bent legs. Two more men were cut down. Then none moved.

"Now I fight with my weapon of choice!" snarled the youth, looking straight into the seated Drago's eyes. They were black and beady, narrowed with contemplation. But a smile played across his lips as he watched the youth's expression change from rage to confusion.

"Any man can fight the weak with a large weapon!" hissed the lad, pointing to all of the men. "Not all men possess great strength. Some possess great skill instead." Snarls descended around the lad's shoulders, but Drago dismissed them and stepped forth from his chair. The lad held his weaponry at ready. Sweat dripped from his brow like flowing tears. But as the master's shadow fell over him, his arms grew weak and dropped with heaviness. The dull clang of sword on clay, a shameful sound, echoed across the sand. In reply Drago chuckled. Then, bending low, he picked up the fallen dagger and rapier and placed them through his belt, sheathed beside the scabbard of his black long sword. Against the word of the men he gave a whistle and told the line to move forward. The lad was left in the dust, as the black army distributed the bone chair back within ash wagon and trudged on, their packs set against their backs again, their weapons sheathed in their scabbards. The four dead were lit afire, and all the while the lad stood behind with fallen shoulders. Even when the pyre burners left the carcasses and rejoined the line, the lad hesitated.

Looking back and growling, Drago snapped his fingers and pointed to his side. Then, with trembling arms, the youth nodded and fired forward on the tips of his toes. Soon he walked at the master's side, watching his great black form as he tread on. In the distance lay a great bundle of grey and black, shot with dashes of red. Its skin was leather, taught in some places but sagging in others. The beast it belonged to to was too weary to hold itself together. When Drago called forth in strange tongue, one of his men drew back a whip. When its wire frame sprung forward and licked the skin of the beast, the massive leather awakened.

With a groan, its grey red skin trembled and stretched. Two powerful wings shadowed the sky, and Drago stepped between them. With one arm he held the reigns. The other he held out to the lad. In fear, the boy grasped the gnarled hand, and was heaved onto the beast's back. Then, the great wings beat the air, and the lad and Drago were transported to the sky.


End file.
